


with wounded lips and salted cheeks

by stardustandfantasies



Category: Padz and Friends (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Drabble, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 22:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandfantasies/pseuds/stardustandfantasies
Summary: But love was, truth be told, good. She loved his rhythmic breathing beside her in the early morning, his infectious, easy laughter.Maybe a part of her loves still.





	with wounded lips and salted cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Beating Heart_ by Ellie Goulding.

They were fortunate. Stella knew it; it wasn't like she wasn't grateful. Julian understood her like no one could; she knew him better than anyone else. Two childhood friends growing up to become lovers who live happily ever after—their fairy tale-like romance was a source of envy to many.

Except fairy tales were not real, and nor did they last.

She used to think that when relationships ended, they ended with a crash—affairs, accusations, angry door-slamming in the face of the ex-lover. But she has seen herself how sometimes the decay of a relationship could be a quiet process. Slowly, surreptitiously, the banal became the bane—and one day, waking up next to his warm, sleeping form as usual, their closeness no longer felt comforting, just suffocating. The years they had spent together had unravelled in that moment, an instant of realisation that threads weaving their relationship had been stretched and worn thin.

Even then their arguments had been calm. No shouting. No screaming. They had tried to rekindle the passion they shared in the beginning—date nights and dinners, long walks and late night talks—but the more they tried, the more they were aware that they didn't work like they used to.

The last kiss they shared—before she left his door, all her things packed in the bag at her feet—was slow and gentle, wistful and full of longing. It was cold and bittersweet, like apologies, and said more than either of them could.

Their memories together, now subjected to the harsh clarity of hindsight, were not all good. There were disasters, and worse, ennui. But love was, truth be told, good. She loved his rhythmic breathing beside her in the early morning, his infectious, easy laughter.

It might be the wine, but she thinks maybe a part of her loves still. 


End file.
